The worst part is having to lie about it

The worst part about spending Christmas alone is not the fact of being alone on Christmas, it is that you have to lie to nearly everyone you know about it. You can't tell the truth because then people invite you over out of pity. And I don't want to spend Christmas with people who only invited me because they felt bad that I had no where else to go.

Everyone thinks I am in Michigan, except the people in Michigan. They think I am somewhere else. But really I am home alone.

Sure, it depresses me to spend Christmas alone. But my options were alone, or go back to Michigan and spend Christmas Eve with my dad's family, and wake up on Christmas Day and spend it alone. Either way I am alone. But this way I didn't have to spend it with people I don't like anyway and I can just wake up and be alone in my own house instead of waking up alone in my brother's.

My brother is lucky that he has a nice family to spend Christmas with. But I don't have a significant other so I don't have anywhere to go.

It's just another day right.

Chasing a sunset

Tonight I went chasing a sunset with my dad, who I have posted almost nothing about, ever. I'm in Michigan now - from now until Monday. So far my time off just feels more like I'm on a weeks vacation returning to the office and the reality of it soon. I'm not sure when it will hit me that I am off of work for a while, but it needs to hit me soon, cause every day that I am this stressed feels like time wasted. I need to find a way to relax.

Anyway, my dad stopped over and we drove to the Huron River to take a walk. I took my new camera - I called my dad and asked him to go with me - I told him I wanted to test the camera out. It was quite a while though until the sunset so we walked around. Then we drove around. I think driving around might be one of my dad's favorite things to do. I actually also love to just drive around - so maybe I got that from him.

So we drove, up and down the river, past pretty neighborhoods, waiting for the sun to set. Honestly, I think we hardly talked. My dad and I don't talk about real stuff - we talk about the weather and how work is - we don't talk about other stuff, important stuff. I'm not even really sure what we talked about for an hour and a half, but it was clear that my dad had a nice time. He told me stories about the area from when he was a kid and where he used to fish and play in the woods. I guess that's what we talked about - the things he used to do. Oh, and we talked about catching fire flies and how he wants to show my nephew on Friday how to do that.

We drove all around and then the sun started to really go down - we were too far from the nice spot on the river where you really got a beautiful view. We tried to get back there in time so I could take photographs. But we missed it.


Maybe next time.

Homeward bound, just not me

My brother, sister-in-law and nephew are en route back to Michigan, back to our home town, to live. Who would have guessed that their journey to another country would land them right where they started (after a brief spell in Boston that is). Going home - to me, everything and nothing is appealing about this idea. I wanted so desperately to leave there, but now that they are moving back, I want to also.

There are things that I miss about being there, that have nothing to do with family. My closest friends are there, even though I've been here for 2 years now. I miss AA there - it's a lot different than here. I miss the table meetings at the Alano Club and all the people that I sat there with day after day for 6 months. I miss the slowness of not being in a city. I miss my favorite coffee shop and my favorite sushi restaurant, my best friend Heather and walking with Claire. I just miss the town.

It's no secret that I'm not that happy here. The thing is, I KNOW it's not here that is making me unhappy. It's something else. It's that thing that has always made me unhappy - that undefinable thing that I have never been able to put my finger on. And I am trying not to suffer from the illusion that moving will fix it - but I do really believe that I would be happier if I move back there, especially now that my brother and sister-in-law will be there.

But the thing is, I can't get a job there like the job that I have in Chicago. Not only would I have to take a 50% pay cut (yikes) if I left my job for any other job, but I couldn't even get a job in my area of law there. What I do is uncommon and well, in some ways I feel like I'm locking myself in - I mean, I am actually. So in some ways, I'm stuck here. Now, as far as places to be stuck, it isn't all bad - I mean, I do really like my job a lot.

So here's the thing, we have three people in my group who live in other states and telecommute. My grand plan is to hold out for a while, at least one more year, probably two and then just see where I'm at career wise. Because I don't want to leave my job, but if my brother stays in Ann Arbor, and I could move there and work from my home like the other 3 do, well, I would probably. Unless I had something else keeping me here. I need to be in the right position when I go to ask for this - a position where they absolutely don't want to lose me so they would be willing to let me do whatever I wanted. I think I'm actually already in that position (seriously, they are going to flip out when I try to take this leave that I want), but I want to make sure it's rock solid before I try to do it. Cause I definitely don't want to jeopardize my job. And, I want to make absolutely sure that when I do that, it's the right choice - you know, that I'm not leaving here to escape myself and that I'm sure of where I want to be - because that is the last place I ever thought I would consider returning to.

But you can bet in the mean time I'll be going home frequently to stay with them and see my nephew, and see how it feels to be there. And that's probably where I'll go for much of the leave that I am planning. It's only a 4 hour drive and I have the flexibility at work to leave early whenever I want or work form outside the office. Anyway - I haven't made any more plans regarding the leave, cause I can't take it until after the end of April anyway - so more later on that...

Today I am grateful that my brother and family are moving back home and will be closer. I'll get to see them more often and I'll get to really know my nephew and he'll know who I am. I think everything about it is going to be good for them - they have good job opportunities lined up there and I just have a good feeling about it.

So, no rainbows here today, but it isn't totally raining either.

Can't think of anything I would rather do (baking cookies in Boston)

Okay, I just had to post some photos of me and my nephew making cookies while I was in Boston, because, well, remembering baking cookies with him and eating cookie dough with him, makes being behind in my hours so totally worth it and unimportant. I'd rather bake cookies with Ellis than work, any day.






Here he is all ready to go with the butter. I bought him that shirt so he could wear plaid flannel just like his daddy and grand daddy. I will be sad when he is old enough to have an opinion about what he wears and I won't be able to dress him anymore.

How fewer miles can make you feel farther apart

The physical distance between you isn't the thing that defines how close you are to someone. I know this because my best friend Heather and I don't live in the same state. When we did, we didn't live in the same city. She moved away when we were 7 - and she's been my best friend, well, ever since then or since I can remember really. I don't remember not knowing her - we met when we were 3. And 27 years later we are as close as we ever were. She is the one thing that I know will always be a constant in my life - no matter where we live or in what direction our lives take us, she will be there. I wrote this post called To My Best Friend Heather back when I started this blog. Everyone should be so lucky to have a friendship like this one in his or her life.

I was thinking about my brother, who has moved back to the U.S. from Germany - and how much closer I felt to them when they were so much farther away. Maybe it was the time difference and the fact that my long day was his afternoon and evening so it was easy to connect - coupled with the fact that we were all logged into Gmail chat all day and could talk nearly every day the entire time they were over there. Lately, I feel like there are thousands and thousands of miles between us. I've talked to my brother on the phone once since Christmas and only a couple of times and very briefly on instant message. There are other people I feel less connected to these days also. Maybe it's just the natural progression of things.

I would have hoped to feel the comfort of having them closer - even though they are in Boston and I'm in Chicago - because in many ways they are all I have. But I don't feel that - I just feel kind of disconnected and lost and alone over here. I don't feel bad - things are good actually - I just feel a little alone without them. I hope it's just temporary, that's all. They moved right before the holidays, were living in two places, trying to find a place, start new jobs, get settled, etc. Extremely stressful I'm sure. Of course it is selfish of me to want to see them and talk to them - so I'm selfish then. Is it really so terrible that I want to feel connected to them?

It just scares me I guess. Our lives change and we go in so many different directions and have so many different things going on that I worry it will become harder and harder to meet in the middle. I don't want them to be people that I only see or hear from at the holidays - an obligatory phone call or that kind of thing. Or I worry that they aren't that interested in being close to me - that's all in my head though, I know. I have this "alcoholic" way of thinking about the world - which I'm sure some of you know what I mean and others of you have no idea what I'm talking about - but let's just say my perception is off - it is a disease of misperception.

I guess I just feel sad about it for some reason today. As uncomfortable as it makes me to say it, I miss them.

A photo mosaic

I'll spare you all of the boring photos (and trust me, there are a bunch) and just post a few from this trip home.

Here is Ellis with his cousins Holden and Bella on the right. And on the left is Ellis blaming my dad for something - not sure what.











This is Ellis offering me one of his crackers while I try to photograph him. He kept offering it to me and when I would lean over to take it he would stick it in his own mouth and then laugh and laugh.











And here is E playing with an appetizer (yes, those are penguins made out of black olives with a cream cheese igloo).

A photo preview

This is my nephew Ellis playing with my cousin's new kitty. It's an E size kitty - perfect size for him to pick up by a paw and swing around above his head - which he did try once. We had to watch him pretty closely around the two kittens. It was pretty darn cute. He was sort of getting the hang of the flat handed gentle pet, but you had to remind him. He seemed to like to touch the whiskers also - I think because he knows the sign for cat, which involves making a gesture like whiskers. They taught him some sign language so he could communicate before he could use words. He seems to know several, but his favorite is definitely more. That's gotta be his favorite word too. He uses it for everything. More food, more tickles, more chasing, more of everything. But he says it in this really cute way - sort of like a question, where his voice goes up at the end.

Anyway, more photos to follow - I'm just waiting for my brother to load the ones on his camera into Picasa so I can get them. Oh, and I'll post about why I don't decorate...those of you who are curious though, you are probably going to be disappointed when you hear the reason!

Mostly benign, and also sad

I just realized that all of the "clocks" are different. My phone is on Michigan time, my blackberry is on Illinois time, and my work computer is just on completely the wrong time - it's hard to imagine exactly how that happened and how I just now noticed - it doesn't even correspond with the changing of the clocks (the wrong computer time) - it's just wrong, not by a little but by an hour and 16 minutes. Anyway...

We went to dinner at my mom's today. It was mostly benign, and also sad. I can't really think of any other way to describe it. Nothing happened really. For the first time ever I'm hesitating to say very much about her here - she doesn't know about this blog - but with the quick click of a button she could find it because my brother and I link to each other's blogs. My mom isn't really Internet savvy enough to find it - I mean, you would think after almost a year and a half of reading my brother's blog and not finding it, she wouldn't suddenly go clicking on the links - but if she did, I can tell you that it wouldn't be good. She would probably say that I've embarrassed us all by posting the truth here, by talking about her and our childhood, by admitting the truth about the things that I feel, by telling the truth about me - because I've said the things that you aren't supposed to talk about. We are all supposed to pretend, remember? I've tried to only talk about her to the extent it is part of my story. She has her own story. But I have talked about her, and sometimes I feel bad about it. But why? I've only been telling the truth.

Like I said, the visit was mostly benign. Nothing really happened. There wasn't any inappropriate conversation, nothing weird was said and nothing really weird happened. She wasn't drunk and she hadn't obviously been drinking. I think she knows better than to drink before spending time with us, or at least me - because I can tell, even when she's only had a small amount - I guarantee, the next time that happens - will be the last time. For me to go there at all is crossing a line that I might rather not cross. It's been a very long time since I've been in my mother's house actually. I've only been there a couple of times since the time many years ago when I said I wasn't setting foot in her house again after she was drunk at a picnic that she hosted and embarrassed us in front of everyone there.

The house was weird - not very clean. She has 7 cats. Or is it 6 these days? It just didn't feel cozy and warm, it had another character. The house next door to her house is the house I grew up in by the way - and it was a dump. The whole yard, driveway, everything - full of garbage. I don't really have a connection to that house - but it was kind of sad and disgusting. The experience was fine - better than expected I would say. But it was sad - I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry that she made such a mess out of her life and that it all went so wrong. I feel sorry for her because it didn't have to be that way. My mom has this picture of her parents on the table in the living room. Her mother - the woman who started it all, in a way. The legacy of alcoholism and dysfunction and terrible childhoods. Actually, maybe she didn't start it all - maybe it goes back much farther than my mother's mother, I don't know anything about her or her family. Only that she was an alcoholic and a terrible mother and drank herself to death basically. My mother is 28 years into doing the same.

I'm upstairs waiting

I'm upstairs waiting for Christmas Eve to be over. Just waiting. Waiting for the week to be over really. I've been gone since Friday night, it's only Monday, I want to go home. I want to go home so bad that I doubt I will make it through the weekend. I had planned to - there were people I was going to hang out with, but I just want to go home. The family has left and my cousins that we are staying with are all downstairs drinking Belgian beer and playing cards. I just felt like being alone - like waiting it out up here alone. I don't spend this much time around people usually. I usually have a lot more time to myself, so I guess it's just getting to me - the constant interaction and conversation, the constant pretending. And, I feel like I'm eating way too much and I haven't been able to exercise at all, so I am starting to just feel gross.

The past couple of days of my holiday have been fine. There isn't much to report. I've been to some meetings, hung out with a few people, seen my dad a lot and spent a lot of time with my nephew. He's just so damn cute. Oh yeah, and did a little shopping for myself. I seem to have lost my Big Book which is a little disconcerting. I'm sure that I packed it. I never travel without it. And it's the one that I read with sponsors so it's all written in with the good/important stuff marked. Now granted it's not the end of the world if I don't find it. But where is it? Also, when I go out of town, I forget to pray. It's just not natural I guess when I'm not in my own house in my own routine.

So Christmas Eve is the day that my dad's family celebrates the holiday. They all came over to my cousins where we are staying and we did the usual. Which involves eating and opening presents, and for me, being uncomfortable. I know that my attitude is a choice and how I approach the situation is a choice - and well, I didn't have the best attitude going into this day and I'm not coming out of it much better either. I don't know if I want to go into the messy details of why this isn't where I wanted to be this Christmas Eve, and why I don't like it, and what is uncomfortable about it, or what is dysfunctional about my father's family or what happened in the past. But I've made an important decision - I'm not doing this to myself again. On many years I have said just that - I'm not doing this again. I know what it feels like for me to sit through these holidays and I don't like it. I just don't. I'm not doing it next year. The only reason I did it this year was to get to spend time with my brother and sister-in-law. Next year, we will have to find some other way to be together, or some other time to be together. Next year, for the holiday, if they come up here - I'll just go somewhere else - where I don't have to feel the way here for a holiday makes me feel. I feel something very specific, and I know what it is, and I could articulate it, but I don't feel like talking about it. Let's just say, it isn't worth it.

One nice thing did happen though (well, a couple of nice things, just one in particular that stands out) - my dad gave me a very beautiful antique bracelet for Christmas. I love jewelry - I wear different jewelry every day. I was expecting the usual (which isn't even necessary) - a check, written out right in front of me and not even necessarily put inside of a card. I always tell him, I don't need the money. This means much more to me than just getting a check. Granted he didn't execute on this gift himself - my brother and sister-in-law took him to the antique jeweler, but still - this is probably the most thought he has ever put into any gift he has ever given me. He even gave me a nice card. I wonder if he picked that out also. My dad knows that I'm unhappy. Not just because I told him when I told him why I don't drink anymore - but because he can tell I think. I think that he has always known, on some level, but denied it like he has managed to deny most of what happened during our childhood. Every time I do go to a family holiday, he always asks me what's wrong. It is obvious I guess that these situations bother me. I always lie and say nothing. He always says are you sure. I always say yes. He drops it. Anyway, the bracelet is beautiful. It makes me feel like crying.

Tomorrow we go over to my mom's for dinner. I don't know what to say about this. I am not looking forward to it. Everything about her and her life is sad and depressing, and weird. More on this later I guess.

Everything, a non-event

I haven't been around the blog world much this week - I was up in Michigan, at "home." Like most things, nothing was as I expected it to be. Be wary of your expectations they tell you - they set you up for, at the very least, disappointment - sometimes something far worse than disappointment. I tried to just not have any.

Breakfast with my mother, telling my father why I don't drink, my anniversary even - everything, a non-event. The thing about my anniversary is that on the one hand it means everything to me, and on the other hand, it's just another day. It does mean something to me though - the year starts for me on December 14th, not January 1, and not on my birthday. It used to be that I paid attention to the years from each birthday - you know, reviewing the year, assessing my accomplishments and failures. Now I just measure by a different date. It is a marker in time. There is my life before and my life after. This thing that I am living, this life that I have, it's like a different lifetime really.

My anniversary was nice though - I went to the noon meeting that I went to every day for the first 4 months, sat with some people who where there on that very first day, and the topic at the table was inspiration, and how we all inspire each other. I then went to lunch with some friends and spent some time with my first sponsor. My best friend Heather came out for the afternoon and we went to dinner and hung out with another friend. It was nice. I saw a lot of people, went to a lot of meetings, and saw a lot more people. I drove home a day early because of the snow storm that was coming - well, it's since come and gone here in Chicago, but it's snowing from Michigan all the way to Boston. Today, here - it's sunny and bright, the roads are mostly cleared, and it smells crisp and clean out.

So, the things I was stressed about - my mom and dad. Breakfast with my mom was literally 30 minutes. She acts like she wants to see me so bad, and then it's over before it even begins. She asked me to set up her vm on her new cell phone and show her how to use the address book. I got irritated and then apologized. She told me I have nice skin and then it was over. We left. She didn't even try to hug me in the parking lot like she normally does. She just said I'm cold and walked away.

The telling of my father - telling him why I don't drink - well, I should have thought about the fact in advance that my dad is a "non-reactor." Seriously - my dad could be having the time of his life - literally - the time of his life, and you would not be able to tell. My dad's reaction to fun is like my dad's reaction to the death of someone - it is the same - mostly flat. So my dad's reaction to why I don't drink - just that - a non-reaction. My brother's prediction was that my dad would react better than expected, but not as well as one would have hoped. I think my dad's non-reaction was even better than predicted actually.

He said nothing negative, only positive things. He told me that it was a wise choice, that he always worried about it because of my mother and grandmother, that he was proud of me. He mentioned some program people that he has met at the restaurant that he eats at twice a day. There is this woman there who has told him her story and told him about how the program works. He didn't really mention AA other than the couple of people he has met though. But anyway, there was nothing negative said, he wasn't upset or angry or disappointed. Is this the doorway through which my father and I will forge a more honest relationship? That I don't know.

My dad has surprised me a few times now though. I guess I would say he is less judgmental than I once thought, and less clueless also. I think he acts oblivious to his family's dysfunction, but it is sometimes apparent that the illusion he lives under isn't as thick as it seems. He always had this ability to let go his children - something my mom never had and still doesn't. My dad, once we were mostly adults - had this ability to say - you are going to do what you are going to do and granted neither of us have ever done anything completely outrageous - BUT - my dad has really been nothing but accepting of anything I've ever done. He hasn't always known how to show support (but he has also never been blatantly not supportive) - but he means well. I think he has always had the best of intentions.

I choked on the words, at the least the ones that came out anyway

My mother called me yesterday, to make a plan to see me while I'm in town. I had half hoped she wouldn't. Sometimes I don't bother to tell her that I'm even coming into town. I guess I must have mentioned this a while ago. She said, "when do I get to see you?" I thought, I could think of a nicer way to express a desire to spend time with me. My mother is very abrasive and abrupt. Caring and concern, sympathy, empathy, love - these are not things that ever come across when talking to her. I told her it would have to be breakfast - all of my other time is all booked up beyond capacity. We settled on Sunday, 9:30.

Dread would be the wrong word. But the truth is, I don't want to go. I just don't. I'll do it, but I don't want to. And here I am again caught up in the pull between doing what I want to do and doing what I feel obligated to do. The time I spend with her is out of a feeling of obligation, it almost always has been. It isn't enjoyable, it's uncomfortable.

Every time I talk to her, she sounds miserably sad and unhappy, and half the time, she is drunk. Of course she will not have been drinking by breakfast - not noticeably anyway. She's been lying to me for a while about whether she is even drinking these days.

The conversation will inevitably turn to something I don't want to discuss, like breast cancer, my relationship situation, my fertility - her favorite topics. When these things come up, it is like being poked with a sharp, searing hot stick, repeatedly, and she just keeps jabbing me with it. Then the conversation will turn to her misery, it always does. And I will find myself unable to bite my tongue. Then we will be talking about AA and recovery and why she won't get some help. Just like I do every year, once a year, I will tell her again that to change our relationship, she will have to take responsibility. I'll talk until I turn blue in the face and then I'll leave and she'll go home and drink. Like I've said, there is nothing else I can do to help her. I know that.

I'm just afraid that one of these times, I'm not going to be able to control what I'm saying. One of these times I am going to tell her everything about how I feel - about our childhood, about the way she treated me, about how horrible it was, about how messed up I feel, about how cheated I feel. I could go on and on and on and on. One of these times, it's just going to come out. The only problem is, what's the point? She doesn't care. I've never even gotten an apology out of her, for anything that happened.

The most my mother has ever been willing or able to say in the way of taking responsibility is this, she actually said this to me once, a couple of years ago, "I know I was a terrible mother, but you are an adult so that's your problem now. It's your problem to deal with whatever issues you have because of it." Yes, on the one hand, that's right - my issues are my responsibility, most certainly. But she is not absolved.

At the end of the conversation, she said, "I'll see you this weekend. I'm looking forward to it."

There was a long pause. An obviously long pause. A noticeably long and misplaced pause. An uncomfortable pause. "I am too," I said choking on the words. I didn't mean them.

Will I ever stop wishing it?

I know what my mother is like. I know that she won't ever be different. I get that. On an intellectual level, I get that. I understand that she lacks the capacity to behave any differently than she does. I don't talk to her much, and when I do, it's very surface level. I don't talk to her about anything real. But there is still this part of me, when something goes wrong, that feels compelled to call her. I don't know why. It's like that has never gone away. I call my sponsor instead. That part of you that would know to seek comfort there, from your parent - except that I don't actually get any comfort there and I never have, but I still know that's the right thing to do, if your parents are normal. I wonder if I will always wish, no matter what the circumstances are, that she were different. Do you always feel disappointed, or do you eventually get over that?

I talked to my mom on Thursday night when I was in the airport, waiting to fly back from North Carolina. She was drunk. I don't know this because she told me, I know because I can tell. I can tell over the phone within seconds of hearing her voice. She talks in a certain way and she says certain things. I can just tell. I didn't bother to mention it, because she would have lied. And what's the point anyway? She told me back in March of this year that she was stopping drinking - or that she had stopped, in January. She told me she could do it on her own and I told her she needed to get help - almost no one can do it alone. Never mind the fact that she has tried before, so many times. And she's been lying about it ever since. It's no surprise that she would lie to me. I have tried, everything I possibly can, to get her to get help. Of course I would be the last person she would want to admit that she was drinking to. So I can talk to her from a place of "sameness" when it comes to this disease, but it is more like a barrier between us. Because unless and until she gets sober, it will never be different.

I have given her a Big Book, with pages marked. I have given her open talks on CD. I even invited her to mine - the meeting I spoke at back in March that I have the CD of - I invited her to that. Even though I knew it would be painful to her on some level, to hear me tell my own story of my childhood, the pain and unhappiness, and my own alcoholism, she would also have related - there would have been understanding on a level that only those of us who have this problem can get. And there is hope there - in my story, and happiness, and miracles. There is a solution. She wouldn't come, so I decided not to give her the CD. I've given her phone numbers. I have offered to have someone pick her up and take her to a meeting. I've offered to take her myself. She won't go. My mother's mother died of alcoholism also. Mostly I feel sad for my mother.

Despite everything I know to be true about my mother, and the way things have always been, I find myself sitting here and wishing, that if just one person could remember what Wednesday is, I wish she would remember. It's silly, I know. Wednesday is the one year anniversary of me surviving breast cancer and I wish my mother would remember that and even just call me to acknowledge it. But she won't. She won't remember. My dad won't either. Neither of them probably even know the date. My dad forgot my 30th birthday this year. I usually remind my brother to remind him so that I don't have to feel embarrassed for him when he forgets. But this year I didn't have him reminded since my brother was living in Germany - and, he forgot. For some reason, and I don't really understand why, that date is significant, the date of me surviving. It means something to me. And because it is significant to me, I want it to matter to other people, but I know that it doesn't. I just wish that it did. I know, some people would just say I am being self-centered in wanting someone to care or acknowledge it. Maybe so. But I still wish that someone would remember.

Anyway, so, what should I do for myself for that anniversary? Send myself flowers to my office and pretend they came from someone else?

There must just be some part of me

There must just be this part of me that holds out hope that some how, one way or another, at some point, eventually - things are going to be different with my mother. Things are going to be different because she is going change. She is going to change and apologize and some how she is going to be the mother I deserved or that I would have wanted. On some days the past seems more resolved than others. On a lot of days what I feel is forgiveness for her, and pity. There are days when I don't feel completely angry. But lately I feel angry about it. Like we got screwed and it wasn't fair.

I had this really messed up dream a couple of days ago. In this dream my mother took my brother and I on a trip (which would never in a million years happen), and she told us she was dying and that she just found out and she would be dead in a week. Now in reality I have imagined this moment - not the moment of my mother telling me she is dying - but the moment when I hear about her death. Of course it is always hard to imagine what something is going to feel like, I mean, you can't really know until the actual moment. But when I anticipate the moment, my reaction is, that I have no reaction, I don't feel anything, I don't care. I know how horrible this probably sounds and I'm sure it makes me sound like a terrible person. I have had times in my life, including recently, where I have felt like if my mother did die, I wouldn't care.

Well, in the dream - I went hysterical. I actually woke up with tears on my face. I was sobbing and saying this isn't right, it can't end this way, things aren't right and they can't end this way. Things need to be resolved. We need more time, we need to fix this.

What does this mean? Does this mean that I'm just not over it? Or that I actually need to do something? The sad fact is, my mother is never going to be different and resolution to the situation falls on her - cause there is nothing I can do and it isn't my responsibility. I think I've done everything I can do - except changing myself. My sponsor always tells me that my part of that - my part of the situation with my parents is simply expecting them to be different. So if I stop expecting that, then I won't be disappointed when everything is just the same. That's my part of that resentment and anger - expecting her to be someone she is incapable of being.

Though it isn't always on my mind, rarely actually, there must be a part of me that just wishes it had all been different and could be different now. On my most days I don't even know that I wish for that. How do I stop wishing for that?

A couple of things, like you don't know who you are talking to

Yesterday I wrote a post, and then un-posted it today. I un-posted it because it was emotional, it was honest, but emotional, and very much what I was feeling in the moment, which we all know is fleeting. It was about the holidays, and my anniversaries (surviving breast cancer and being sober) and how upset I am about Christmas and feeling like my anniversaries don't mean anything. On the one hand I feel like I should be able to post whatever I want on my own blog. I should be able to say how I'm feeling, right, without worrying about how other people feel about it. I wasn't blaming anyone for the way I feel - I don't do that, blame other people for the things that I feel. I wasn't saying the way I was feeling was right, because what you feel isn't right or ever wrong, it just is what it is. I was just getting it out, venting. I should be able to vent about how I feel, right? Well, I un-posted it so I wouldn't upset anyone. Anyway, that's sort of beside the point I guess, and I am sure there are better ways to deal with things that slapping your feelings on the Internet.

So today I was talking to someone, and expressing my upset about the very things I posted about in that post - my anniversaries, the holidays - I was just expressing how I felt. I wasn't blaming anyone, just venting about it - because like I said, it wasn't right or justified even, it just was what it was. I get sick of people saying you shouldn't feel a certain way. True, I could take action to change the way I feel, but the way I feel it isn't wrong. Well, this person I was talking to, she said something to me, that frankly, really pissed me off. What it was actually, was a reminder of the very thing that my sponsor likes to remind me of - not to judge people. Why - because you don't ever know what someone else's experience is. Actually, the day reading that I did this morning was about this very thing. It said, let the results of someone's actions be the judge. In any event, I've decided not to be friends with this person, because why, at this point in my life and my recovery, would I subject myself to people who treat me in ways I don't like? That would be old behavior. Yes this might seem drastic, but why would I welcome someone into my life who would say to me what this person said? I'm just not going to.

A lot of years ago - I learned this, about being being careful what you say to someone because you don't ever really know what their experiences are. You don't ever really know who you are talking to. You just don't. You just don't know what they have been through, what it feels like to be them, to be in their skin and their head and their life, what their decisions are based on, why they do what they do. You can't know those things. I learned this a lot of years ago, not because of something I said, but because of something someone said to me. That conversation that I had years ago, it changed my perspective. This person that I was talking to today, that changed my perspective also. It really hammered home my sponsor's point about judging people. Because that's what it was, a judgment of sorts, and harsh one. You might say that I can't blame her for a lack of understanding, she doesn't after all, know the whole story. But that isn't a good enough excuse anymore. What she said to me was quite nasty and uncalled for and I am tired of excusing people's bad behavior. I am holding them to a higher standard.

A non-event

My mother called - a week and two days ago. It was such a non-event that I haven't bothered to post about it. She caught me by surprise. She called my work phone from her cell phone and I didn't recognize the number. I answered because I thought it was my cousin calling me from her husband's phone. I was more than surprised actually, I was shocked. I thought our relationship was over when after refusing to give her 2k, and some pretty difficult conversations, and her not talking to me for 5 weeks...I did really think it was over. I was okay with it. I was. I was prepared to never see her or talk to her again. In some ways I felt relieved. I felt lucky - compared to my brother and sister-in-law who seem intimately more tied to her, even if it is only about my nephew and even if it is only on the surface.

She called me up to talk about nothing - in fact she called like nothing happened 6 weeks ago - though it was pretty clear that the existence of it hung between us even on the telephone, so dense you could have cut it if we had been in a room together. She sounded sad more than anything. She tried to tell me she wasn't drinking (yeah right), she started a job (after the failure of her business - which is what the 2k was for). She has no where to go for the holidays (me neither). She talked a lot about my brother's job opportunities. She never asked how I was, she just asked what I've been up to. I told her work. She asked if I had any friends. (When did I ever give her the impression that I don't?) I said yeah, lots of them, in AA. She managed to slip a little poke in there - she said, I sure wish you could find a man to be with. I tell her I've given up on that, partly to be dramatic (which she says makes her feel really sad). And then she had to go. The whole thing was relatively harmless, but sad.

It was apparent that she basically called to make herself feel better - because it is always about her. When I had breast cancer - it was about her. Clearly it wasn't about making me feel better - I mean, there was and never has been an apology in my life from her. My sister-in-law pointed out an interesting thing - the only thing she ever wishes for me is that I find a man. She doesn't wish that I find happiness - she only wishes that I find a man. Ironic because she would blame the failure of her life on my father.

She has tossed the ball back in my court. I feel like flinging it in some other direction. I have a feeling that she thought the ball was probably in my court all along - and I thought it was in hers and that she wouldn't touch it. I was content with that. Now what am I supposed to do? Do I have to see her around Christmas? Do I buy her a gift? What am I supposed to do? What has changed since I thought it was over? I still fell guilty.

Just checking to see if I am still human

If I don't write now, I may not get a chance. I need to just check in - am I alive? I feel like a robot. I mentioned in my last post the ability I have to not feel, and well, to work (literally, work) my way into oblivion. I'm operating on autopilot at the moment. This is the morning of my 8th day of working with no day off, which granted may not seem like a lot - but just given the status of things at the moment, I am expecting another 12 days before I actually get to have even one whole weekend day to myself. I am not complaining (me, complain? Never). All things considered, this happens maybe once every three months and that's really not bad at all. I am tired though.

I just go through the motions. 6:20 get up, 7:45 get to work, 8:00 read blogs, 8:30 start working, 7:30 finish working, go home, eat, email, return phone calls, go to bed, get up, do it again. Sometimes there is a meeting squeezed in there. I have to say - despite the level of stress I am feeling, I am handling it pretty well. I have to think it can only be because the number of meetings I am attending isn't suffering at the moment. Because I have been helping someone new, I have been going to more meetings than I normally would in the middle of being this busy at work. When I am at work 11 or 12 hours a day, and working Saturday and Sunday, something has to give. Usually it is the number of meetings I get to. This time though - I am sacrificing a bit of work time to be there for someone new - which is a good thing.

But I don't feel very human when I work like this. I did cry though. Yesterday, in Target. I went there at 7 on my way home from work. I was tired. I cried because someone died yesterday while running the marathon (which was cancelled about half way through because of the heat and only 4,000 of 24,000 runners crossed the finish line). It made me terribly sad to think about his family and all those people who trained for it. And then I thought about my mother and it was like my heart seized up and turned to stone. Rock solid and impenetrable. I was trying to figure out why I have had no reaction to our last conversation and the possible end of our "relationship."

The truth is - there is nothing there to miss. The absence of my mother feels, well, it feels the same as the presence of my mother. I've taken care of myself since I was a little kid. For a brief moment when I thought about what that would mean to never talk to my mother again - I thought - oh my god, I don't have a mother, what am I going to do? The same thing I have always done. Take care of myself as if I don't have a mother. I was thinking - you can miss what you have never had - you know the nice happy family with the happy stories, the really great parents who are supportive and there for you and loved you and took care of you. I can miss that - but it is really only the idea of it that I am missing. I don't even know what that looks like and I can't even really imagine it or articulate what it would have felt like to have that. I just miss the idea of things, that's all. But I don't really know what I'm missing. I only know what I know.

The truth is, everything is the same - in her presence or her absence. I am the same - and I am not lost. I felt a little bad for feeling so cold - for feeling like I didn't care. I felt like I should react, I should be devastated. I am not devastated. If I am anything - it is only sad for her, and even that is difficult to come by because the misery she lives in is of her own making. Maybe it's okay - to feel like I don't care. And to think about her makes me grateful because I have been blessed with a gift that she doesn't have - which is my sobriety. I have also been blessed with the knowledge that I have a choice to live differently. Not only do I know it is a choice, but I have been blessed with ability to choose differently and to live my life differently than she has and it is amazing to actually be able to put that choice into action. The irony of that - is that my mother always used to say - you always have a choice. Everything is a choice - you always have choices. That might be the one and only thing I learned from my mother.

The fall makes me sad for other reasons

The fall and the spring - the times of year that evoke the most emotion - and the times of year that I most associate with unresolved issues in my life. The spring because it is my birthday - that time of year when I engage in the greatest reflection - where I look at my life and all of the ways that it doesn't meet my expectations. The fall makes me sad for other reasons. I associate the fall with family - I don't know why. I think of the holidays, the smell of wood burning in fireplaces, hot apple cider, sitting around with family, playing games or cards, laughing, remembering - these are not my memories. Where did they come from? They are just the things that I think of when I think of fall. Can you miss something you've never had? I think so.

Thanksgiving and Christmas have always been the times of year that I have dreaded the most on some level - there is hope followed by disappointment, followed by hope and then more disappointment. Eventually there is simply anticipation, followed by disappointment. The disappointment is unwavering. When I was a kid I dreaded these things because of the behavior of my father's family and because my mom was drunk and embarrassing on nearly every occasion. As an adult I dread it because I have no where to go to celebrate these times of family togetherness. No real family to share it with.

Until a few years ago - I choose to participate in the dysfunction that is my father's family for things like Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. I participated because I didn't know what else to do. It's almost like it doesn't matter how horrible it is, or how judgmental they are of you - you keep going because you just desperately want something that resembles a family. You just settle I guess. It's just like in other areas of my life - I'll settle for what I can get, just to say that I have something. Every year it is different and painful. A couple of years ago I decided not to go anymore. This was a step in the right direction I think - choosing not to participate was a healthier choice. I feel bad, in some ways, because I don't think my father understands. And I feel angry because all these years I have always thought that my father's family has simply felt justified in their treatment of us and my mother. They've always just believed that they were right by pushing my mother out of the family and treating her terribly. My mom is obviously not a saint - but their behavior when I was a kid was uncalled for and unacceptable. It was inexcusable. So I choose now not to excuse it by showing up and pretending.

Last year a friend, not a close friend, but a friend, took me to her parents' for Thanksgiving. I would otherwise have spent it alone. I think she felt sorry for me. A couple of years ago - I did spend Christmas alone actually. I sat on my couch in my pajamas all day and then ate spaghetti for dinner - it was the only thing I really had in the house and I hadn't bothered to go to the store in time. Last year I spent Christmas Eve at my sister-in-law's parents' house and then drove home Christmas morning - I didn't want to intrude on their otherwise family occasion. I know that I am always welcome there and they have never been anything but really nice and caring and welcoming to me - but I think I will always feel like I just don't quite belong there.

I feel like a charity case - I'm the extra person that shows up to dinner because someone felt sorry for me. I don't want to be that person. You would think on the one hand that it would make me feel good to have somewhere to go - and I am grateful for people's kindness, however, it stings in a way, almost more - to show up at someone else's house and listen to someone else's stories, and think about how you don't belong there. People always say - you get to make your own family - choose the friends you want to hang out with on the holidays. Everyone I know goes home to their families or has a family of their own. And frankly, I guess I haven't been that good at forming close friendships since living here. I know a lot of people. None of them know me. I'll save that for another post.

My relationship with my mother has come to a deafening halt I think. I have contemplated this moment all my life - the moment that I would no longer feel weighed down by her. And I have always known that I would be okay - that I would be absolutely fine if my mother never spoke to me again. That isn't the part that makes me sad. It doesn't sadden me that this woman, who thinks I am terrible anyway and always has, doesn't really want to be a mother to me or have much to do with me at all. It saddens me simply that she isn't someone else. If I am angry about anything, it is simply that I don't have someone else for a mother. The severance has been incomplete though. She called my brother, to see my nephew on the video chat - she never mentioned me or mentioned the money. My brother just said that she sounded sad. I am out from under her I think, but not free of her completely.

I am not sure what I'll do about the holidays this year. Thanksgiving I think I'll spend alone. Christmas I am worried about actually. I am close to my brother and sister-in-law and one cousin. And I know that I will see my brother and sister-in-law in December, when they are in town, but I will only get limited time with them. They have so much family on her side and so many people to see - I always feel like the one that gets left out. Of all of the sister-in-laws, I am the least important, I will see them probably the least. It makes me sad, because they are all I've got. But I can't be selfish I guess.

I will see my dad briefly around Christmas - probably with my brother, sister-in-law and nephew. My dad will write me a check, right in front of me - because he lacks the forethought I guess to purchase a card and write the check out in advance - and buying me an actual gift would be unthinkable. I always want to say dad, just keep the money - this isn't even what this occasion is supposed to be about and I don't need it anyway. It's like he knows no other way to express whatever it is he feels for us - it is terribly unclear actually. A good example of my father is the following - I think I posted a story once about the Christmas that I actually purchased the card for myself, that my father gave me a check in. No wonder it seems that no one cares really. My dad asked me to purchase my own Christmas card. I guess I could have purchased a card that said all these wonderful things - how much he loved me and what a great daughter I am, and how proud he is - I just bought a blank one.

That same year, that I purchased the cards (I also purchased my brother's card from my dad), I purchased my brother and sister-in-law's Christmas gifts from our mother on the Internet with my mother's credit card, right in front of them. We laughed about it. But it wasn't really funny. On the topic of card buying - it's always an interesting experience when I have to purchase a card for one of my parents. I stand there in the card isle - nothing seems appropriate - none of the cards seem to apply to my situation. Do they make happy mother's day cards that apply to the circumstances in which I grew up? I stand there in the isle, and I never know whether to laugh or cry, so I laugh.

I am sad about the fall - more sad than normal. One might suggest that this is yet another example of my expectations gone afoul. Where did I ever get the idea that birthdays were supposed to be great and holidays about gathering with family and enjoying the time together? I'm not sure where I got those ideas.

What trying to forget about it looks like

I threw on some clothes and a hat and went to Target. I went there to buy water, a toothbrush and soap. I didn't need anything. I wandered the entire store. Thirty-two dollars later, I cried in the parking lot. I drove home. I thought about what I would wear later and whether I would buy a new pair of jeans.

The real test of whether I care is how much effort I put into what I look like. You know - they say - you have to look nice everywhere you go to have any hope of finding anyone. I think Target is an exception. Any guy pushing a cart around Target has to be there with his significant other. But that's what people say - you shouldn't go to the grocery store in your pajamas. I always put way too much effort into what I look like when I go to weekend meetings. Weekdays I look okay because I look nice for work. But the test of whether I care or not, would be if I went to the meeting tonight wearing what I wore to Target. Then I would know that I didn't care. But instead I am contemplating a new outfit.

I like to be out and about in the early morning in Chicago - no cars on the road, no people. It's nice to feel like you are the only one out in a city of millions. I can see why people get up really early and go down the street for coffee. It is peaceful in the city early in the morning on a weekend. I like to walk over to State Street from my house. But today I think I'll just drive over there and park at my office. It is peaceful though, before the people come out.

I have to say, that I used to think a toothbrush was just a toothbrush - I've never been into the fancy ones. But today, I bought a kind of snazzy one (due to the limited supply available this morning) - and I have to admit, brushing my teeth with it was like a whole new experience. Seriously - kind of wild actually.

So I have this thing for trying anti-wrinkle products - to reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles and to improve skins elasticity blah blah marketing blah. I am a total sucker for this because I am terrified of getting old. Why? Because I think that the older I get/look, the less likely I am to find someone. Do you notice a theme here? This should be the - I have no self-esteem and therefore date only assholes, can't seem to break myself of the pattern which makes me like myself less and by the way I am obsessed with worry over never finding a guy who wants me - blog. But that would just be depressing. Anyway - I am trying 3 right now. I know - I should try them one by one for say 4-6 weeks at time. I should be an official product tester. People laugh at me if I tell them that I try all these different products - they always say - but you don't have any fines lines or wrinkles. Aha - precisely - what if these products are working? I use these products on the same theory that many people believe in God. Just on the off chance that it turns out in the end that there happens to be a God, well, you will be better off if you believed in it. I can't stop using these products now - they might be effective. Stopping would be like the following, well sort of - I got an email from the hospital that I went through cancer treatment at - asking me if I wanted to participate in a study. It says - soy may help to prevent breast cancer/breast cancer recurrence. Are you willing to abstain from soy products for 6 months? Hell no. I'm going to eat it just in case.

I don't like to drive by the Greyhound station at night. Sometimes I forget and accidentally go that way on my way home from Target - when I spend a weekend night there wandering the isles.

Diet Coke with lime is good, but I can't drink the vanilla kind. I used to drink vanilla vodka with Diet Coke. Gag. There are certain things, flavors, that I will never be able to stomach again.

I have been getting some strange and interesting hits on my blog lately. I like to look at the statcounter and see what kinds of searches land people here. Thanks to my recent posts, apparently if you search "negative manipulative mother" you find me. And if you search things relating to dating in sobriety you find me too. God help you if you are newly sober and thinking about dating and you find this blog. God help you if you have been sober a while and are thinking about dating - especially if you are thinking about dating a guy in the program. In my experience, which has not been good - they are pretty much effed up. Now I suppose the same could be said about the women. I of course like to think that I am not all that effed up on the scale of effedupness.

Do you think honesty comes in degrees? Or is it all or nothing? Can I say I am 90% honest with my sponsor - or does that mean I am not honest at all? Is that like saying you are not 100% sober - in other words, it doesn't count? I may have to have a fessing up session with my sponsor here shortly. The sins of omission are eating away at my serenity. What serenity?

I think it may actually be the case that the more money you make, the less it seems like enough.

Have I been thinking about my mother or have I been able to forget about it? Only every other thought - in between every other weird thing that has gone through my head in the past half hour. I fluctuate between feeling okay about it and feeling bad about it. I haven't heard from her in a couple of days - and I may never again - I've thought about that possibility. And it's okay if I never hear from her again. But the fall makes me sad - that's for my next post...

What is this feeling?

It's a little something like being lost - or like you've lost a piece of you. You've lost a piece of your life. You don't want it back but something is definitely missing. Instead of your life, which is pliable, reshaping itself to fill in this once occupied space - there is just a hole. You have to fill it with something, because you can't stand an absence like that, the way you can't stand a feeling - the way you can't stand uncertainty. There was always drama and chaos, pain and rage, and God only knows what else involved in our relationship. I think she has been like a tornado in other peoples' lives at times. My mom told me today that she didn't know why she was talking to me, when it only made her feel worse.

That might be the story of my life and of my relationships - not just with her, but with men in particular. Why do I participate with this person who only hurts me and makes me feel bad - makes me feel as worse as my mother can - with this person who makes me feel like the most worthless thing in the world? I go back for more. I practically beg for it. I suppose on the theory that just once it will be different, and it never is. My relationship with my mother can only be described as one of both love and hate at the same time. That was the message I always got/get - I love you/I hate you. I love you, but.

My relationships with men follow this pattern. It is sickening really and not at all surprising. I've struggled with trying to break the pattern but my self-esteem has never quite been good enough to break it. I always find myself having the same relationship over and over, just with different men, with slight improvements every time, yet with the same underlying fundamental failure. I love you. I hate you. Come here. Go away. I want you. I don't want you. I keep trying. Trying not to be abandoned. Willing to do anything to keep myself from being abandoned. Tolerating the unthinkable and putting up with the unacceptable.

I can only hope that standing up to mother this time, once and for all, is the end of that pattern. Maybe it is the end of trying so hard, the end of feeling bad about myself, the end of tolerating people's bad behavior, the end of settling for less than I deserve. Maybe what I've needed all this time to change my relationships with men, is to change my relationship with my mother. At first I felt angry about the situation she has put me in, and then I felt sad, I still do, a little. Right now, I feel empowered.

There is somewhat of a hole here though. There is something that is missing. An absence in the shape of the space that she occupied.

This thing that I feel - it is like being lighter.

Standing my ground, while she whittles away at me

I told my mother no. She started crying, begging, pleading, begging. She did a little explaining - but I couldn't really make sense of it - only that she had lied - clearly - about some things she told me yesterday. I let the conversation go on far too long - something I am guilty of doing with her. I never quite seem to back out of a conversation with her before damage is done. Our conversations always head in the direction of recovery - me pleading with her - why don't you get it? Why don't you get help? Why don't you get sober? Why don't you go to a meeting? Why, why, why don't you get it? Why don't you see reality? WHY DO YOU NOT GET IT? WHY DO YOU FUCKING NOT GET IT? You fucking have a choice in this - why don't you get that? You are the cause of the misery that is your life - not me, not dad, not your mother - you. WHY DON'T YOU GET IT? I feel like I am banging my head against a wall.

I want her to get it. I need her to get it. What I want for me - is for her to accept responsibility. What I want for her is another chance. I want her to know that she doesn't have to be miserable. I want her to know what it's like to be happy. I need her to get it.

I probably said things today that I shouldn't have. Things that were harsh, but true - but probably didn't need to be said. I told her that if I gave her the money, it would mean the end of our relationship. I told her that I was done participating - that I was making a better choice for myself and choosing to no longer participate. It was very clear that if I would give her the money - she would rather have that than any hope of salvaging something between us. My mother would choose the money. Interestingly, she hasn't called my brother.

The were multiple phone calls. Multiple calls to my sponsor. My sponsor is really adamant that I stand my ground. If it weren't for her, I would have given in already. The only concession my sponsor offered was to tell her I would pay the bill directly to the creditor, provided she checked into a treatment program. She said no.

She said she guessed she always thought that you should help the people you care about. One time I confronted her about how she helps other people but has never helped my brother or I. Her response was - my friends tell me that I am such a caring, loving and giving person. I don't know why I'm not that way with my children. I don't know either.

She called me again, and left me a drunken voice mail - the content of which was how her demise has nothing to do with her being an alcoholic. Denial might be the most powerful thing I've witnessed - next to this disease of alcoholism.

I think she may literally lose everything she has. Why do I feel like the horrible kid she always told me I was? What makes me the most upset is that she believes that. She believes that I am a bad person - that I treated her poorly and inappropriately. She used to always say - I can't believe how horribly my children have treated me their entire lives. She probably believes that I am the most horrible person she has ever known. Why does that still affect me? Why isn't it enough that I don't believe that about myself? Does it make a difference how much money it is - does that affect how horrible of a person I am? If it were $500 - would it make me horrible - more horrible than if it were $5,000? She asked me for $2,000. It makes me feel worse that I can easily afford to give it to her, I just don't want to.

If anything, I feel more sad for her than I do angry.